


The Song Went on Forever

by Azile_Teacup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:33:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azile_Teacup/pseuds/Azile_Teacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: counselling</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Song Went on Forever

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: past unspecified trauma,

**The band was all together**

 

The house is quiet and dark when Gwaine gets home. He was expecting Arthur to be home from work by now, but it’s not like Arthur never works late. He lugs the shopping into the kitchen before going back to take off his shoes and coat and put some lights on. Once he’s unpacked the shopping he heads through to the livingroom to crash in front of the TV for a bit. He trips over something in the doorway. When he flicks on the lights he discovers that it’s Arthur, lying on the floor. Gwaine crouches and takes his pulse, relief flooding him when he finds it strong and steady. He turns Arthur onto his side and finds him awake, staring at Gwaine.

 

“Um, hi,” Gwaine says, “did you trip? Are you alright? Shall I call nine-nine-nine?”

 

Arthur shakes his head.

 

“Are you hurt? Sick?”

 

“No. I didn’t make it to the sofa.”

 

“Are you _drunk_?”

 

“Li’l bit. Jusa li’l.”

 

“Jesus. Why on earth are you drunk out of your skull at five thirty?”

 

Gwaine gets back to his feet and heaves Arthur up after him, stumbling them over to the sofa and dumping Arthur none-too-gently onto it. Arthur doesn’t give an answer, just lies face down and burrows into the cushions. Gwaine watches him, hands on hips, and decides to call in re-enforcements.

 

Merlin has no more luck than Gwaine in getting anything out of Arthur and so they retreat to the kitchen to come up with a game-plan. Gwaine makes them tea and they sit in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

 

“We could just leave him alone to be drunk,” Merlin suggests.

 

“Yeah, except the last time Arthur got drunk was almost a year ago. He doesn’t really do getting drunk.”

 

“True, true. I think he has been crying, too.”

 

“Mm. I noticed that, too.”

 

Reddened eyes and slightly swollen cheeks. Arthur has never been a pretty crier. Arthur interrupts them by stumbling into the kitchen and crashing into the table before falling into a chair and stealing Merlin’s tea. They just watch him.

 

“’M fine,” Arthur mumbles.

 

“That’s not at all reassuring,” Gwaine says, “when you can’t even say the words without slurring, chances are the sentiment is false.”

 

“I hate you,” Arthur says, clear and careful, not slurring at all.

 

Then he laughs at his own joke and spills the tea everywhere.

 

“For heaven’s sake,” Merlin snaps, getting up to get a cloth, “you’re just… chaos.”

 

“’S’alrigh’, di’n like it anyway. Too mush sugar,” Arthur slurs, pushing the tea cup away from him, “s’stupid.”

 

“Tea is stupid,” Merlin says, mopping up around Arthur, “right, of course.”

 

“Not tea!” Arthur protests, “not tea. He is stupid. Him.”

 

Arthur points at Gwaine, but Gwaine is pretty sure Arthur doesn’t mean him. Not that Arthur doesn’t call him stupid all the time. But usually it’s after he’s actually done something.

 

“Tol’ me I hadda do it all over ‘gain. Over and over, jus’ say it over an’ over an’ over.”

 

Arthur thunks his elbows onto the table and sets about trying to rub his eyes out of his head, tears leaking over his fingers. Gwaine closes his eyes, suddenly remembering what today is and what Arthur’s on about.

 

“He has therapy today,” Gwaine says.

 

“Ohhh,” Merlin says, catching on, “you had to see the counsellor, didn’t you? The new one? How was he?”

 

“Not good, I’d guess,” Gwaine mutters.

 

“Made me say it ‘gain,” Arthur says, gazing up at Merlin with an expression that’s equal parts haunted, miserable and deeply trusting.

 

Merlin sighs and wraps his arms around Arthur’s head, rocking side to side. He starts to hum and Gwaine gets up, clearing away the cups and tea things and then he slips out, closing the door carefully behind him. He goes to sit in the livingroom, head back on the sofa, eyes closed. He always feels a bit drained, thinking about it. He’s pretty sure Merlin only knows about half of what happened to Arthur, because Arthur has so much trouble talking about it. Gwaine only knows because he was there. He puts the TV on to drown out his own thoughts.

 

Merlin and Arthur come and join him a bit later, Arthur in Merlin’s arms, legs up, tucked under him. He looks pale and a bit ill and Merlin regularly checks him, brushing the hair off his face, kissing his forehead and eyelids. Gwaine smiles slightly. This time two years ago Arthur would have probably have shut himself in his room, on his own, shut himself down for days. Merlin’s been good for him. Gwaine glances over in time to see them kissing.

 

“Oh, get a room,” he mutters, “I want to watch TV, stop ruining it for me.”

 

“Shuddup,” Arthur slurs, shifting so he can kick idly at Gwaine’s thigh, “still love you.”

 

“I hope not like that. You’ve snogged me before and it was gross.”

 

“It was a dare!” Arthur says, “we were thirteen! I’ve gotten better.”

 

“Unless he was a fantastic kisser at thirteen, he really has got better,” Merlin says, kissing Arthur again, “yup, he’s not gross now.”

 

“I still don’t want to kiss him,” Gwaine says.

 

Arthur sighs but heaves himself up and flops over so he’s leaning on Gwaine’s shoulder instead of Merlin’s. Gwaine gets a face-full of breath that stinks of Jack and Coke, and then Arthur kisses his cheek. Gwaine shoves him, laughing.

 

“Thanks, Gwaine,” Arthur says, “always doin’ this, a’mean.”

 

“Always,” Gwaine says, pulling Arthur close for a moment, then shoving him back at Merlin and adding, “you twat.”

 

“He definitely doesn’t have a twat,” Merlin says, musing, “I’ve checked.”

 

“God,” Gwaine says, turning up the volume, “you two are gross.”

 

Arthur settles back against Merlin and before long he’s snoring away. Gwaine turns the TV down and turns to watch, brings his knee up to lean on. Merlin meets his eyes over Arthur’s head and they both sigh in relief.

 

“He’s okay,” Merlin says.

 

“Yeah,” Gwaine agrees, “he’s alright.”

 

“The… the counsellor…”

 

“No, he was doing his job. He needs Arthur to go through the history if he’s going to help. Trust me, this is actually good. Last time Arthur had to talk someone through it he shut himself in his room for a week, ate nothing, threw up all the time and… it was bad. At least he’s sort of talking, at least he’s coming to us- to you, for comfort.”

 

“I hate this,” Merlin says, kissing Arthur’s hair.

 

“Me too. But he’s alright.”

 

“He’s alright,” Merlin agrees.

 

They turn back to the TV, Arthur warm between them, and Gwaine is glad that he can share the responsibility now. He actually likes Merlin, too, unlike Arthur’s other boyfriends, so that’s a bonus. And Arthur’s actually happy most of the time these days. Yeah, he’s alright.

 

 

> **_"And he was alright,_ **
> 
> **_the band was all together,_ **
> 
> **_yes he was alright,_ **
> 
> **_the song went on forever,_ **
> 
> **_and he was up all night,_ **
> 
> **_really quite paradise,_ **
> 
> **_He sang all night long."_ **
> 
> _David Bowie, 'Lady Stardust'_


End file.
